Maybe I'll Take a Pottery Class

Having feng shui-ed my office (well, it's a two-walled cubicle more than anything else), done some yoga and even tried a meditation DVD, I can just about believe that I'm ready to add a regular commitment of some kind to my life.

As I sat in the most ridiculous training of all (customer service training for library staff by someone who has no hint of a clue what happens inside a library), I started making a list of some things I'd like to possibly do with my time. An art class. A creative writing class. A photography class.

I was just a fly's hair away from pottery class.

And isn't that what people who REALLY have nothing to do go and do? Isn't that what middle-aged women who are still fifteen years away from retirement say they want to do when they can finally stop working?

And didn't Charlotte say she might go spend a day at Color Me Mine after she quite her lucrative job at the art gallery (cheers to all who get the reference)?

Yeah, I'm 26. I'm waaaaay too young to be thinking it's about time to take a pottery class.

Now, since I want to make creative writing a career (or something like it), then that creative writing class may not be such a bad idea.

But please, let's not have me running off every Tuesday evening to throw pots with a few hip college students and a lot more bored retired women with a penchant for crafts.